Angela and Margaret dashed across the street, laughing as a Studebaker blared its horn angrily at them.

"Why aren't you in school?" Margaret asked breathlessly as she leapt out of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Behind her, Angela looked me up and down disparagingly as she lit a cigarette. I shrugged at Marge's question, trying to come up with any reason for my absence from school other than the truth. I doubted either of the girls would think too much of me if they knew I was too hungover to get myself out of bed.

Margaret just laughed. "We ditched too," she assumed, and I was grateful it didn't occur to her to think otherwise. "Where are you going?"

I suddenly remembered that I was within eyesight of the DX. This was the one time I actually wanted to be invisible but, when I looked, both Soda and Steve were staring at us. I felt my stomach sink a little, knowing I was in for a barrage of questions from them.

My mind raced as I realized the trouble that could come of them following me to the DX. One of Margaret's favorite pastimes was boasting about her most recent escapades. If Soda found out about the night before, I knew he'd tell Darry. Pony and I might have had an unspoken agreement not to tattle on each other, but we all knew that Soda went straight to Darry once he had dirt on anyone. I didn't hold it against Soda, but I sure didn't go running to him with my secrets either.

"I gotta go take care of something over at the DX," I finally answered when Angela sighed impatiently.

Angela appeared interested then, looking behind her towards the gas station. I realized that while she may have had daggers for Pony, she'd easily settle for Soda.

"Something personal," I added quickly, to discourage her from following me. "Can I catch up with you later?"

I almost expected them to press me for more information about this personal trip to the DX. Instead, Marge just nodded and grabbed my hand, scratching her phone number onto my arm with a pen.

"Call me," she ordered and briefly touched her smooth cheek to mine, making a kissing sound.

Her long hair gently brushed my arm and my breath caught in my chest as her warm, sugary scent enveloped me. It was something I'd jealously watched her do with Angela and Barb at least a hundred times before. Margaret sauntered off down the street leaving me standing there with my head swimming like an idiot. Angela scowled at this display of companionship, but managed to force a half-smile and wave as she passed me to follow Margaret around the corner.

"Lucy!" Soda called from the driveway of the DX, jerking me from my thoughts. I dashed across the street, walking up the drive to meet him. Steve was leaning up against the gas pump with his cap pulled down low, so I couldn't tell where he was looking.

As I passed him, he grabbed my arm and gawked for a minute at the seven digits scrawled on my skin, before I yanked it away.

"Can you believe it?" he demanded of Soda. "I've been trying to get her number for weeks and she goes ahead and gives it to your kid sister."

"Since when are you friends with Margaret and Angela?" Soda asked warily.

I felt anger rising inside me. Of course Soda and Steve would assume I wouldn't-no couldn't be friends with girls like that.

"You grease monkeys don't know everything," I snapped. "Margaret and I happen to be especially good friends."

I turned to leave then spun back, my hair whipping my face angrily. "And I wouldn't hold your breath for that number, Steve," I added, because Steve was always so hateful anyway. "She's out of your league."

I watched Steve's jaw drop before shooting him the same smug grin I'd seen Angela give Tim the night before. He was clearly stunned and maybe even a little outraged that I'd finally dared to give him a taste of his own bitter medicine. Then I heard Soda's roaring laugh.

"What's so funny?" I demanded crossly and he slung his arm around my shoulder.

"Grease monkeys?" he chuckled. "It's about time you stood up to Steve; he's been picking on you for years and you ain't never said 'boo' to him."

I looked up at Soda like he was crazy. I'd never understood the benefit he saw in keeping Steve Randall as a friend.

"C'mon," Soda motioned for me to follow him. "I'll buy you a ginger ale."

After receiving a fierce look from Steve, I followed Soda up the drive and into the shop where he cracked the top off a bottle of ginger ale.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" he asked with genuine concern, taking a swig of the bottle before handing it to me.

"Better," I muttered between sips, feeling a bit guilty about making him worry when I was only hungover.

I glanced up at Soda, feeling him staring at me. His warm eyes were curious without being prying.

"So you're hanging out with a new crowd these days?" he asked as offhandedly as he could manage.

I narrowed my eyes at him. I appreciated that he was trying to be considerate and tactful, but the last thing I wanted was to have this conversation with Soda, of all people. He was so clueless sometimes that it was hardly worth talking to him about anything of real importance. Pony could spend hours pouring his heart out to the guy, but I'd never seen the point when Soda's standard response was to ruffle your hair and tell you it would be okay when he really had no way of knowing that.

"Alright, I wasn't gonna hassle you about it," Soda said in his own defense as I glared at him. "I just think it's nice that you're finally making some friends, is all."

I lowered my eyes then, humiliated that even my own brother thought I was a nobody. Finally I'd managed to make some friends. He said it as if everyone had been concerned that I was destined to go through my entire life a friendless freak-show. He clumsily tried to move a piece of hair out of my face and I swatted at his hand, tucking the strand behind my ear. I didn't need him to baby me like he did Pony.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, and I nodded hurriedly.

"My stomach's still a little uneasy," I lied and slid my ginger ale to him, the sight of it suddenly making me sick. "I'd better get home."

Soda seemed happy to believe that I was just nauseous and patted me on the head absurdly. I hate it when he does that.

"Hope you feel better," he offered, as I returned outside.

Steve was still our front pumping gas into a new Ford. He paused to give me another nasty look, then rolled his eyes and shook his head as if I wasn't even worth that much effort.

I felt my anger of being ignored and always second-best start to rise again. I felt those feelings of frustration and embarrassment over never being good enough and always being compared to my brothers pushing towards the surface, desperate to burst out. I could practically hear Darry begging me to be more outgoing, like Soda, or more focused on my schoolwork, like Pony. I hated Steve for reminding me that, even if Angela and Margaret took a liking to me, I was still invisible to everyone else. I was so tired of just blending into the background. For once, I just wanted to be the best at something. For one, I wanted to be noticed.

My ears started ringing and I realized I'd been holding my breath to keep from screaming. At some point, I'd also started running. I slowed to a stop, gulping mouthfuls of cool, fresh air and tried to calm myself down.

"Who cares about being the best?" I finally decided, kicking at an old can so hard that it ricocheted off the curb and into the street. "Who cares if no one but Marge and Angel notice me?"

I suddenly realized that what I had always considered my curse could very well turn out to be a blessing. If no one noticed me, then no one would miss me being in the background. It wasn't my brother's gang of creeps approval I was after, anyway. If everyone wanted to assume that sweet, quiet Lucy was too much of an outsider to be running the streets with Margaret and Angela, I'd let them. Meanwhile, I had other plans.